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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763118">31 Days of Discreetly Unmarked Tapes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguistifical/pseuds/penguistifical'>penguistifical</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Asexual Character, F/F, F/M, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Some Sexual Kink, anyway those will be the pairings for the month, it's my kinktober and I get to make the rules, yes actually that last one would you believe it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:47:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguistifical/pseuds/penguistifical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Peter needs a moment alone after being intimate. Sometimes he doesn't return at all.</p><p>Day 7: Caning, Peter/Elias<br/>+Day 8: an aftercare blurb.</p><p>things so far:<br/>Day 1: Temperature Play, Agnes/Gertrude. Day 2+3: Multiple Orgasms/Overstimulation+aftercare, Melanie/Georgie. Day 4: Discipline, Peter/Elias. Day 5: Spanking, Jon/Martin. Day 6: Human Furniture, Jon/Martin<br/>Day 7+8: Caning + aftercare, Peter/Elias</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agnes Montague/Gertrude Robinson, Annabelle Cane/Helen | The Distortion, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Helen | The Distortion/Rosie, Jack Barnabas/Agnes Montague, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Temperature Play (Agnes/Gertrude)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Temperature Play (Agnes/Gertrude)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello welcome to day 1<br/>I've got the month planned out and outlined, we’ll see how updates go<br/>it might not be daily but I think I'd like to try for 31 blurbs as a total goal<br/>I just made my own list of prompts and I also have some aftercare days sprinkled through things, so some days may get a follow-up scene the next day<br/>and some days will be longer than others based on what I have planned out</p><p>I’ll tag stuff in each chapter, see how much dread horror actually ends up being in any of these...probably some</p><p>some stuff will be more explicit or not, and some stuff will be more sexual or not, and any of the kinks I have lined up could go to any pairing, it's all just dealer’s choice over here.</p><p>anyway, day 1 is gertrude/agnes for temperature play<br/>here we go~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gertrude strikes a match and watches Agnes’s eyes gleam in the flickering shadows of her bedroom. She holds the lit match for a bit longer than is safe, enjoying the image of Agnes spread across her sheets. She’s always sensed the soul of the other woman, but that’s been at an intimate distance. They've never been able to be close until recently, and so even something like watching the rise and fall of Agnes's chest as she breathes is a moment to be savored. Besides, the gloves she’s wearing will keep her from being burned - from a match, anyway.</p><p>“Are you planning to hold the candle above me?” Agnes asks, resting languidly on Gertrude’s sheets, so tantalizingly close and yet still untouchable. “I’m afraid the evening will be over immediately.”</p><p>Gertrude knows just what she means. Any candle that she holds close to Agnes’s skin will be a puddle of liquid wax in a heartbeat. It’s an attractive image, the idea of the wax spread in a hot instant across the canvas of Agnes’s bare skin.<br/>
<br/>
But, as Agnes says, it would also be far too quick.</p><p>“Not hardly,” murmurs Gertrude, adjusting a glove. “I’ve something else in mind. Have a little faith.”</p><p>“Faith?” Agnes stretches and laughs, her hair cascading over her shoulders, sparkling in the light of the candle. “My whole life, I’ve had little else but faith.”</p><p>Gertrude smiles in wry acknowledgement. “Well, then. Try to have some anticipation, perhaps.”<br/>
<br/>
She’d love to run her hands through Agnes’s hair and down her neck, but such thoughts are to invite burnt fingertips, the fate of any who reach towards the fire. They'll need to keep their distance, remain untouching. Still, she can almost feel Agnes’s gaze on the back of her neck as she leaves the bedroom, though the other woman’s focus lowers questioningly to the tray of ice cubes Gertrude carries in when she returns.<br/>
<br/>
“Lay back, Agnes. Flat, if you please, and don’t move.” Gertrude says, and slowly selects an ice cube, watching as Agnes arranges herself obligingly. Trustingly, she would have said in another life.<br/>
<br/>
The gloves make handling the ice much easier, and it doesn’t hurt to have a bit of protection between her own skin and Agnes’s, especially as all of Agnes’s clothes have been neatly piled on a chair next to the bed.</p><p>Gertrude holds her palm next to the candle, letting the flame’s wavering heat melt the ice. The reflection of the candle dances in the water that’s slowly pooled out in the palm of her glove. Gertrude looks to the bed to meet Agnes’s gaze and sees for a moment a flame dancing also within the avatar’s eyes. Whether it’s a reflection of the candle or a mirroring of her inner self, the archivist cannot say. Whichever it is, they both smile at each other.</p><p>Agnes is lying back unmoving as Gertrude asked, a comfortable statue in shadow, watching as Gertrude approaches. She tips her hand to allow one drop, and then another, the icy water falling to splash on Agnes’s stomach. She’s rewarded by a delicious gasp as Agnes involuntarily arches up under the shock of the sudden chill.</p><p>“Shh, lie back,” Gertrude soothes, waiting until Agnes does so before upending her hand again. This time she pours the entire handful, watching the cold water stream across Agnes’s chest, rivulets pooling down her sides, the slight helpless curve of her back causing some of the water to run upwards into the hollow of her throat.<br/>
<br/>
Gertrude melts another cube, dripping the freezing water onto Agnes’s breasts, watching with pleasure as the other woman’s nipples firm up in the cold, each tilt of Gertrude's hand met with Agnes’s shaky breaths and quick shivery twitches. But she remains in position, as Gertrude has said.</p><p>“Very good,” Gertrude says, voice warm with praise, a contrast to the ice she holds. “Good girl.”<br/>
<br/>
Another melted ice cube, another set of shockingly cold droplets dripped down to run along Agnes’s body, leaving wet trails down her stomach and her thighs. Agnes remains mostly still for that and then for an additional ice cube dripped along the same trails, moving only in for slight needy movements against the sheets as each drop lands.</p><p>“Good girl. My perfect girl.” Gertrude lets the last bit of water in her hand fall to land Agnes’s cheek, a frigid peck instead of a heated kiss.</p><p>Agnes looks up at her with lips slightly parted, the last drop of ice running down her face like a tear, and Gertrude cannot help touching the flame.</p><p>She brushes a feather-light flick of her hand across the avatar’s cheek, a quick motion like lighting a match. The reflection of the lit flame of the candle flickers in Agnes’s pupils which are blown huge with desire that Gertrude has stoked.<br/>
<br/>
The archivist dares a second touch, this one a slow drag of her fingers, gloves trailing down Agnes’s stomach to between her open legs. Agnes's moan turns into a laugh at the sound of the lining of the gloves sizzling as it burns.</p><p>It’s just as well Gertrude has a second pair of gloves nearby, as well as a second tray of ice.</p><p>She's always found it best to be prepared when playing with fire.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>some timely Robert Frost: "from what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire"</p><p>and thank you all users and guests who leave kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it a lot!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Multiple Orgasms/Overstimulation (Georgie/Melanie)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 2: Multiple Orgasms/Overstimulation</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>mmm day 2<br/>well at least I beat my curse of "if it's got multiple chapters I'm unlikely to come back"</p><p>will I return for day 3? a mystery</p><p> </p><p>cw: Injury mention, doctor mention. Not graphic, but referred to.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been four weeks since the relief of hearing that Melanie won’t need any surgery, that her healing is going as well as can be expected.<br/>
<br/>
It’s been four days since Melanie has stopped wearing all but the lightest bandages and dressings, just enough to protect her eyes from dust and strong light while she continues to heal.<br/>
<br/>
It’s been four hours since the doctor’s appointment where they told Mel she was looking good and that she’d be able to resume strenuous activity without risk.<br/>
<br/>
And, lastly, it’s been four minutes since Melanie dragged a laughing Georgie to their (their!) couch and rolled her on top of them both.<br/>
<br/>
She’s still giggling between soft sighs of pleasure when she orgasms underneath Georgie’s hands and mouth a moment later.<br/>
<br/>
Georgie grins up at her from between her legs. “That was awfully fast.”</p><p>Melanie shrugs awkwardly in her position against the couch, looking dreamily pleased. “What can I say? It’s been a while.”</p><p>Georgie takes that as something of a challenge to make up for orgasms missed, though she intends for the second to be a bit more drawn out.</p><p>She rests her cheek on one of Mel’s thighs while she presses warm kisses into the other, hands rubbing circles against her girlfriend’s hips as Melanie shifts underneath her. She slowly mouths and nibbles her way along the inside of Mel’s thigh, trailing a path to the wet heat between her legs, and then tracing small quick circles with her tongue.</p><p>When Mel’s hands tighten on her shoulders again, she presses her mouth against Mel’s clit and sucks in time to Mel’s pleading, “Georgie, Georgie, <em> Georgie,” </em>until Mel comes again, shaking and holding Georgie close against her.</p><p>Georgie rubs Mel’s legs, waiting for her to get her breath back. When she does, it’s to ask softly, “Can we go again?”</p><p>Georgie grins. “Of course.”<br/>
<br/>
Melanie’s starting to lose control of her volume, getting helplessly louder and louder as she rocks herself against Georgie’s tongue and fingertips. Her next orgasm follows quickly again, and intensely.</p><p>“Can,” Melanie pants out, “Can you hold me down?”<br/>
<br/>
“Love to,” Georgie says fondly. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”</p><p>Georgie presses down firmly on Melanie’s legs. It’s not enough pressure to keep her held perfectly still, but enough to keep Melanie still when she squirms. And, she knows her girlfriend loves the feeling of being able to push up and feel herself getting pushed back down, held in place.<br/>
<br/>
She returns her attentions back to between Melanie’s legs, laving her tongue in rough broad stripes. Melanie cries out immediately, torn between trying to twitch away but also rub forward against Georgie’s mouth. Mel’s over-sensitized, hot, and entirely soaked. </p><p>Georgie loosens a hold on one of Mel’s hips for just a moment to reach up and squeeze her girlfriend’s hand, before repinning her firmly to the couch.<br/>
<br/>
She hums quietly in answer to each of Mel’s increasingly desperate moans, the vibration in turn feeding back into Mel moaning loader and loader until Melanie finally comes one last time, shaking for several moments as orgasm flows through her, until finally relaxing bonelessly back against the couch with Georgie’s head resting on her stomach.</p><p>“Love you, babe.” Melanie murmurs, hugging Georgie’s shoulders. </p><p>“Love you too.” Georgie moves away only long enough to clean off her face, coming back in a moment to bring her girlfriend a blanket and a kiss.</p><p>“You know,” Melanie says, looking blissed out and sleepy as Georgie wraps them both in the blanket. “I’m not sure this is what the doctor meant when they said ‘strenuous activity.’”<br/>
<br/>
Georgie rolls her eyes fondly and settles in to spoon her girlfriend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>see you on day 3</p><p>and thank you all users and guests who leave kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it a lot</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Aftercare #1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>aftercare day! a follow-up to yesterday's multiple orgasms/overstimulation with georgie/melanie</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They eventually both rouse to clean up a little more, just enough to feel comfortable before promptly resuming cuddling together in the bedroom.<br/><br/>Georgie gathers Melanie to her, tucking Mel’s head underneath her chin.</p><p>“Hey there,” she says quietly into her girlfriend’s hair.<br/><br/>Melanie snuggles in closer, offering only an, “Mm.” in response. She’s close and quiet, as she sometimes gets after sex that’s more intense. </p><p>“You’re so cute,” Georgie whispers, and feels Mel’s lips twitch up into a sleepy smile against her chest.<br/><br/>“Hardly,” Melanie says, snuggling against her, twining their legs.</p><p>“Hey, I’m allowed to call my cute girlfriend what she is.” Georgie wraps her arms around Melanie and sways her back and forth slightly on the bed. “My girlfriend is adorable," Georgie sings in an improvised silly melody. "She is the cutest.”</p><p>“Don’t be a twit,” Melanie laughs, letting herself be rocked. </p><p>Georgie gives her a quick squeeze, and continues in the same singsong croon. “And this is her favorite song.”</p><p>“It’s <em> not</em>,” protests Melanie, still laughing, and untucks her head to reach up and cut off any further singing with a kiss.<br/><br/>“Third favorite, maybe,” she quietly admits afterwards as they lie together, grin to grin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sometimes aftercare is being ridiculous together</p><p>where is the admiral? he is in the kitchen having some snacks and napping under the table where it is warm</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Discipline (Peter/Elias)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 4: Discipline, Peter/Elias</p><p>well, tbh it's not the fourth day as such, but it is *my* day 4 so we'll just keep on keeping</p><p>also wow I'm writing lonely eyes what a surprise for me. that could easily have been the whole month</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this has minimal impact play + also there's a compulsion</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not unusual for Peter to have mixed emotions regarding Elias, but he’s not sure he’s ever felt precisely this unsettling mixture of both being extremely pleased while also being thoroughly frustrated.</p><p>The avatar of the Eye had offered him a bargain in exchange for owing Peter a future favor. The terms were simply to go fetch a stack of books slated for discarding due to water damage. Some statement of the Vast was contained within. It had seemed a set of terms profitably and easily accomplished given Peter’s ability to quietly enter a place and more quietly leave.<br/>
<br/>
The whole thing turned out to be a snipe hunt. And, to add insult to the injury of wounded pride, Elias forfeited the terms in order to present Peter the win of the wager as a "gift."</p><p>Peter doesn’t have the loss on his record, need not admit to being played, and has the questionably valuable prize of a future favor. On the other hand…<br/>
<br/>
“That was a tremendous waste of my time and resources for your games,” Peter tells the smug Head of the Institute, currently seated at his office desk and smiling benignly.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know your time was committed elsewhere what with how readily you dedicated yourself,” Elias drawls easily from behind placidly clasped hands. “I’d always intended to give you the victory as a present, but I’m afraid I took pity on your efforts earlier than I'd planned.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you couldn’t have planned this from the start," Peter continues, "Rather than sending me halfway around the world?”<br/>
<br/>
"You travel there anyway. Why should this be different?” Elias asks, lips forming a petulant frown.</p><p>“That’s what this is, then. You’re upset I didn’t, what, call you on my last trip?” Peter smiles nastily. “You were missing me? You were….” Peter draws out the question, savoring the last word. “Lonely?”</p><p>“No,” snaps Elias, sitting upright, but regains his composure in a flash. “Really, dear, I had no idea you’d be so annoyed with me.” His tone suggests he'd known exactly how annoyed Peter would be and had been quite enjoying the situation right up until his victory started to slip. “If I’d actually needed the documents and your help in getting them, your clumsy attempts would have presented quite the problem.”</p><p>Peter doesn’t rise to the bait. “I think you have a different problem.”</p><p>“<em>Do tell, </em> ” Elias asks, compulsion wrapping around Peter’s mind like an arm around his side, tugging him close.<br/>
<br/>
“You think everything’s a game just because you’ve found a way to always win. Everything that you do is always going to be either for your gain or for your amusement. You puppeteer others with favors and with blackmail because you’re a nasty, lazy hedonist and you never get your hands dirty. If things ever started going badly, you’d just jump ship to another body.”  Peter leans forward across the desk, bringing the two of them sneer to sneer. “You’ve never had to face consequences, Elias Bouchard.”</p><p>“What a tantrum,” Elias sighs. “You’re finally going to be the one to impose some consequences, is that it?”</p><p>Peter smiles slowly. “Is that a challenge?”<br/>
<br/>
“Perhaps.” Elias makes a show of leaning back in relaxation, to demonstrate he finds the very idea a joke. But Peter can see, from a history of knowledge of Elias’s body, that the man is tense with eagerness, coiled as if either to strike or flee. “I was hoping you might consider it more of an invitation. Usual rules apply, of course.”</p><p>Peter takes a step back as if to leave, and chuckles at Elias’s quick indignation. “All right. Stand up, then.”</p><p>Elias rises, casual and unhurried. Peter can appreciate the other man’s graceful motions but his attitude won’t do. Elias is clearly waiting for an enjoyable manhandling that’s still entirely at his direction. The best way to keep the avatar of the Eye on his toes is to act spontaneously, and so Peter comes to an abrupt decision. </p><p>Rather than pulling Elias in close for a bruising kiss, he twists the other man’s arm up behind his back and frogmarches him to the corner of his own office. He sees Elias's openly startled expression, and enjoys knowing that his sudden change of plans to catch the Eye’s avatar off guard has worked.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s this?” Elias asks, trying to look over his shoulder. Peter prevents him, putting his other hand on the back of Elias’s head and taking a firm grasp of his hair.</p><p>“Consequences, like I said.” Peter says pleasantly. “Now: put your nose in that corner, keep it there, and don’t talk.”</p><p>Elias immediately balks, trying more urgently now to twist around. Yet, he’s not doing anything within their ‘usual rules’ to suggest he’d actually like to leave. Peter uses his larger physique to his advantage, leaning up against Elias to keep him gently pressed against the wall, holding him in the corner easily.</p><p>Peter uses his hold in Elias’s hair to tilt the other man’s head so that he can whisper directly into his ear.</p><p>“Feeling helpless?” Peter whispers, enjoying the other man’s shiver against him. He brushes his lips against the rim of Elias’s ear, a tease so that when, as expected, Elias tries to lean into the caress Peter can push the other man back into place. “I think I told you not to move.” Peter tightens his grip on Elias’s hair and twists the other man's arm slightly further up his back. “You’re going to stay here for a bit. Fifteen minutes.”</p><p>Elias glances back out of the corner of his eye, the closest he can get at the moment to looking at Peter. “And think about what I’ve done?”</p><p>“That’d take a bit longer than fifteen minutes, I expect.” Peter replies, and catches a quick smile before Elias schools his features back into blankness.</p><p>He waits to see if Elias will need to be held in place again, but the avatar of the Eye leans his face against the corner and plants his feet. Peter releases the arm he’d had pinned and guides both of Elias’s hands to rest on the office walls.</p><p>“Good.” Peter says curtly. “Glad to see you’ve decided to behave.”</p><p>“Yes...captain.” Elias offers.</p><p>Peter shakes his head. “No. Not ‘captain.’ That’s in bad taste, as you’re well aware. Something else, if you please.” He kneads Elias's shoulder a bit absently as he thinks.</p><p>“Not ‘master,’ I hope. Please do decide what you feel is in better taste before we both grow bored.” Elias says, obediently holding his stance, though not his tongue. “You’re rather losing your aura of command, anyway. It's a shame that you’ve let the moment slip, you’d been doing so well.” </p><p>Elias’s words are cut off with a startled yelp as Peter gives him a smart slap on the arse. After a second of consideration, he lands another firm smack for a second delightful cry.</p><p>“I wasn’t speaking for that one!” Elias says indignantly, trying to look over his shoulder again.<br/>
<br/>
“Symmetry,” Peter says unrepentantly, positioning Elias back into place. “And, ‘sir’ will do. Now, you stay like this for a bit and we’ll see how much more lovely you’re feeling in fifteen minutes, as I said.”</p><p>“You’re just going to leave me here in the corner and trust that I'll listen?"<br/>
<br/>
Peter smiles behind him, and untucks Elias’s shirt in one rough movement. "I didn’t say I’d be going anywhere.” He presses his lips against the back of Elias’s neck, brings a hand up underneath his shirt to rub small circles against Elias’s chest.<br/>
<br/>
When a hand starts to dip beneath Elias’s waistline, he sees the other man’s hands twitch away from the wall.<br/>
<br/>
“Keep them there,” Peter warns.<br/>
<br/>
Elias’s hitched, “Yes, sir,” is exceedingly satisfying.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted to use grin to grin but also sneer to sneer so I did both</p><p> </p><p>and thank you all users and guests who leave kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it a lot</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Spanking (Jon/Martin)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 5: Spanking, Jon/Martin</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello I'm back and it's day 5</p><p> </p><p>this is either during safehouse before the Eyepocalypse or some AU where the world never ended? It's whichever you like~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon’s not entirely sure what he’s expecting when Martin says he’d like to tell him something. The two had been lounging in the safehouse, cuddled up together on the couch during a stormy morning. It's a comfortable atmosphere - comfortable enough, apparently, for Martin to want to bring something up. <br/><br/>He's doing his best not to Know things, out of respect for Martin, and so would never have guessed that the confession is that Martin would like to try being spanked.<br/><br/>“When would I have <em> possibly </em> told you that I'm into something like that?” Martin asks him after, chuckling at Jon’s surprise. “It’s not exactly a topic that came up during any of my employee evaluations. Or, you know, after."<br/><br/>Jon is quick to speak when Martin’s laughter starts to sound suspiciously self-deprecating. “I don’t think it’s funny, not when you’re trusting me enough to say something like that. It’s just, I don’t know what I thought you were going to say, is all.”  Martin gives him a quick affectionate squeeze. “It sounds like it could be fun. I’d like to try, if that’s something you want.”</p><p>“So…” Martin pauses, and then laughs softly. “I don’t know where to start, I guess. I didn’t really have a scene or anything in mind. It was just something I wanted to try and never got around to.” Martin wraps his arms around his boyfriend and rests his head on Jon’s. “There were other things going on, like preventing the end of the world.”</p><p>“I mean, in a way that’s even better.” Jon offers. “We can just try and see if we like it.”</p><p>Martin brightens. “That sounds easy.” He tucks his hands into the brim of his sweatpants, and hesitates. It’d been a blanket and comfy clothes kind of day with Jon half dozing in Martin’s lap while Martin read. “Should I take these off?”</p><p>Jon shrugs against Martin’s chest, and then sits up and pats his lap. “Whichever you like.”</p><p>Martin decides in favor of keeping them on, at least to start with, and awkwardly clambers over the couch to lie over Jon’s lap.</p><p>“You feel pretty tense. Something wrong?” Jon asks, not Knowing, but perceptive. </p><p>Martin shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable against the couch. “Mm, I didn’t have anything planned but I also don’t really feel like I’m over your knee.”</p><p>Jon makes a considering noise, and then suddenly scoots forward. Martin doesn’t tumble onto the floor, thanks to Jon’s careful arm around his side, but he automatically puts his hands out to the ground to catch himself. He's no longer lying stomach-down on the couch but instead positioned over his boyfriend’s lap with his arse up in the air. The pose has Martin's face heating; he can feel his pulse picking up and there’s an excited warmth starting to curling in his stomach.</p><p>“Better?” Jon asks, just a tad smugly.<br/><br/>Martin tries to look back over his shoulder to smile at Jon, but it’s difficult at this angle. He can more or less see some of Jon’s movements in shadows. “Great,” he tells the floor, heart fluttering as he feels Jon’s hand gently rubbing the small of his back.<br/><br/>Jon lifts a hand, and then, disappointingly lets it drop back to the couch. “Am I supposed to be punishing you for something?”<br/><br/>It’s tempting to snark back in response to see if Jon swats him for it, but they’re just supposed to be testing the waters for now. “Do you have anything in mind?”</p><p>“No, of course not.” Jon answers instantly. “You’re wonderful.” His hopelessly fond-in-love tone would have Martin hugging him if he weren’t currently draped over Jon’s lap. Instead, he presses his cheek against Jon’s ankle. “Well, like we decided. Let’s just see how one goes.”</p><p>Martin had been wondering if Jon would start out too gently with a literal test stroke. He’s surprised both when the smack lands and by how hard it is. He jolts forward in Jon’s lap and can’t help a slight, "Oh." </p><p>“Good?” Jon asks, after a moment.<br/><br/>Martin realizes he’s gone quiet, thinking about how the first spank had felt. “Yes, it’s good. Really good.” He says quickly. </p><p>“Want another?” Jon offers, adjusting Martin back so that he’s not so precariously balanced.</p><p>Martin nods, and then realizing Jon probably can’t see that fully, “Yes, please.”</p><p>Jon gives him a second slap, and then another, firm swats on either side of his arse. The quick bite of each strike has him squirming against Jon’s lap.</p><p>“More?” Jon asks again, pausing to knead the skin where he’d struck. </p><p>“Yes,” Martin half-groans, pulled back into having to speak again. “You can just do some more for a bit without asking, I’ll say if you should stop."<br/><br/>“What if I like when you ask?” Jon says, and laughs when Martin whines. “Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll just go slowly then.”</p><p>Martin grins against Jon’s leg. “You don’t sound half eager. I’m glad you’re also having fun.”</p><p>“Well, I might be starting to see the appeal.” From his tone, Martin's sure Jon's grinning as well.<br/><br/>“The 'appeal'? Is that what you’re looking at back there?” Martin teases.</p><p>Jon pats Martin’s thigh. “Among other things.”<br/><br/>Jon begins a set of hard slaps, as slowly as promised. Presumably it’s to give Martin a moment in between each to say he’s had enough, but the carefully paced timing has Martin rubbing his legs together after each spank as the sting starts to build. Jon places a couple of swats lower, landing at the very top of Martin’s thighs where his legs meet his arse. Martin bites his lip but can help neither the soft noises that escape him after each, nor a quiet whimper when he feels the considering trace of Jon’s fingertips against where he’s just slapped.<br/><br/>He’s worried Jon might take that as a sign for a break, and quickly says, “Please keep going, it’s perfect.”<br/><br/>Jon’s response is to land a set of three quick smacks back up on his arse, and Martin feels an answering three pulses of warmth in his stomach. The heat on his skin is really starting to build. Without thinking, he reaches up behind him to feel. He’s caught off guard when Jon easily catches his arm and folds it up behind his back, and flushes at being held like this.<br/><br/>“I don’t want to hit your hand,” Jon explains fondly, continuing to hold Martin in place while he tries to keep still.<br/><br/>“I know.” Martin says, embarrassed. “I just wanted to touch. It can wait.”</p><p>Jon gently runs a hand along Martin’s shoulder. “Few more?”</p><p>At Martin’s murmured assent, Jon resumes his slow steady pace, this time stopping after every few spanks to rub his hands against Martin’s heated skin over his pants. It’s a weird mix of sparking sensations: a set of sharp swats closer to the inside of Martin’s thighs that leave him gasping, immediately followed by Jon’s hands massaging the skin to soothe the sting away.<br/><br/>When Jon presses in with the heel of his palm and fingertips it actually feels like he’s driving in the burn deeper. The feeling has Martin wrapping both his hands around Jon’s ankle to steady himself.</p><p>Martin had thought the position might feel humiliating, and it does, nicely so, but it also feels surprisingly intimate. He can feel the warmth of Jon’s stomach against his side, Jon’s hand rubbing his shoulder in between spanks, the feeling of Jon's leg against his cheek as he presses up against his boyfriend.<br/><br/>“Last one,” Jon announces, and Martin nods. The final slap doesn’t land with the sound of a crack, not against fabric, but it definitely would have against open skin. </p><p>The burn afterwards hardly has time to set in before Jon’s helping him up and pulling him into his lap to cuddle.</p><p>“Enjoy yourself?” Jon asks near needlessly as a grinning Martin snuggles back against him. “Should I get you lotion or something? Ice?”</p><p>Martin tucks his head under Jon’s chin. “No, stay here.” He does take the opportunity to actually feel his skin underneath his pants. His whole arse feels like it’s slowly throbbing, and he kind of wants to go peek in a mirror to see what it looks like.<br/><br/>“It’s just a bit warm,” he says in response to Jon’s questioning look, making sure that everything's well.<br/><br/>Jon smiles. “My palm is too.” He brushes it against Martin’s forehead in demonstration. </p><p>“You liked when I asked you to continue,” Martin says thoughtfully. “Something you want to explore?”</p><p>“We can play with that next time, if you want.” Jon says, and kisses the top of Martin’s head.</p><p>“Love to,” Martin hums, pressing up against Jon’s chest. “Next time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and there will likely be another impact play day because, you know, reasons</p><p>Thank you all users and guests who leave kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it quite a lot!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Human Furniture (Jon/Martin)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 6: Human Furniture, Jon/Martin</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>slowly we go along, it's day 6</p><p>this is either during safehouse before the Eyepocalypse or some AU where the world never ended? It's whichever you like~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin hums as he thumbs through his old poetry notebook, examining some of the past ideas he’s jotted down that might grow up to be a verse or two. Or - in the case of a poor description of a storm - slashed out with a pen.</p><p>“Didn’t want to keep that one?” Jon asks, and the notebook resting on his back rises and falls as he adjusts his position. Martin’s lying down in bed and Jon’s lying down over Martin, a human bookstand draped over his boyfriend’s legs. </p><p>“Not those lines, no,” Martin replies, and lightly taps the book's spine against Jon’s. “I don’t know that I’ve ever used a talking desk before.”</p><p>“It’s a new feature in some of these electronic desks. Extremely modern.” Jon says, and shifts again, clearly not yet settled. He calms when Martin rubs a steadying hand against his shoulder. </p><p>“No,” Martin tells him, fondly and firmly. “Desks don’t talk.” Jon mutters something against the blanket, and Martin adds, “Jonathan.”<br/><br/>Jon had mentioned, when he'd asked Martin for this, that it might take him a moment to ease into the role.</p><p>Martin puts more pressure into his fingertips, starting a proper massage. “You’re all right,” he soothes, feeling Jon’s tension melt away underneath his touch. “That's it. You don’t need to talk right now. You can relax.”<br/><br/>Desks don’t sigh, either, but Martin doesn’t mention it when Jon slowly exhales in a measured way, as if he’s counting in his head. Martin can feel when he relaxes completely, not having to be anything and being comfortable just being. </p><p>He adjusts his poetry notebook on Jon’s back, but doesn’t yet reopen it. It’s one of his older ones, one he’d actually brought to work when he’d first joined the Archival staff.</p><p>Martin smiles at the memory of his crush, of dreamily tracing Jon’s name into his desk. He puts the poetry notebook on the bed. Laying the side of his hand against the small of Jon’s back, he slowly begins tracing a large ‘J’ against the warm canvas of his boyfriend.</p><p>Jon stretches his arms and murmurs with pleasure at what probably feels like an extremely odd and precise back-rub.</p><p>It’s just a moment of silliness Martin wants to indulge in, Jon doesn’t know what he’s spelling out.</p><p>Or so he thinks, until he starts tracing an ‘&amp;’ and then his own name, and sees Jon’s grin. He finishes tracing and kisses his fingertips to press against Jon’s cheek.</p><p>Desks may not talk, but Martin finds it more than acceptable that this particular desk smiles. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I didn't really foresee that some of these days were going to be as fluffy as I've written them but like<br/>some days I've got a fluffy soul, I guess<br/> </p><p>Thank you very much all users and guests who leave kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Caning (Peter/Elias)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 7: Caning, Peter/Elias</p><p>again wow I'm writing lonely eyes what a surprise</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>haha bet you thought you'd seen the last of Me but here I am<br/>making my way through the days at my own pace</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter studies the man in front of him, bent over his own desk and tense with anticipation. Instead of beginning, the avatar of the Lonely leisurely taps the cane scant centimeters away from Elias’s ear.<br/><br/>The Beholder doesn’t flinch, which is a pity, but he’s always been difficult to surprise.</p><p>“How many would you like?” Peter asks pleasantly, continuing the rhythmic tapping, making it impossible for the other man to focus on anything other than what’s upcoming.</p><p>Elias shrugs awkwardly against the desk and doesn’t answer, though he does turn his head slightly to inspect the end of the cane that's intimidatingly close to his face.</p><p>“Twenty?” Peter offers, a daunting total even considering the avatar’s healing factor. “Thirty? <em>I</em> can’t read minds, you know. I’ll just have to guess.”<br/><br/>Elias rolls his eyes, and spits out, with considerable petulance, “Seven.” </p><p>One for each month Peter’s been away.</p><p>It’s not so surprising - that’d been the same amount Elias had asked for the day before Peter had sailed.<br/><br/>That parting caning had left a set of gorgeous marks that had lingered for far longer than a memory of a kiss, though Elias had asked for seven of those as well.</p><p>Elias is sprawled somewhat inelegantly but nevertheless attractively on his office desk, bent over in a way that invites Peter’s touch.<br/><br/>As pretty a picture as he makes, it’s not quite the "penitent" posture for caning he should be in - but Peter doesn’t mind having to work for it.<br/><br/>The Lonely’s servant slowly walks around to the other side of the desk, dragging the cane along the surface as he goes, until he can look Elias in the eye.<br/><br/>Peter props himself up on his elbows, somewhat mirroring Elias's pose across from him. He crooks his finger in a ‘come here,’ motion, punctuated with a patronizing click of his tongue, as if beckoning a pet.</p><p>Elias doesn’t stir until Peter lightly taps his own lips.<br/><br/>Then the Beholder strains across, stretching up to the tip of his toes so that he can reach Peter across the desk for a kiss.<br/><br/>Peter rewards his effort with a quick brush of his lips across Elias’s open and eager mouth, holding him in place with just a finger under his chin.<br/><br/>“Good,” Peter says curtly, and raises the cane to run ever so gently along the underside of Elias’s pout. After a moment, Elias kisses the thin wood as well.</p><p>“Good,” he says again, something dark and satisfied creeping into his tone. “You know to hold this position, I’m sure.”</p><p>Moving back behind Elias, he takes another moment to admire the view...and to let the Beholder squirm a bit in expectancy.<br/><br/>He leans forward to roll the smooth polished surface of the cane up and down Elias’s bare arse, groping him over the wood. </p><p>“Your thighs are shaking,” Peter observes, trailing his hands down said thighs, a blank canvas before him. “We haven’t even started.”<br/><br/>Elias’s breath hitches slightly, but his tone when he speaks is even. “We <em> would </em> start if you’d just get on with it. You may as well still be at sea.”<br/><br/>Peter steps back and raises the cane. “Well, Elias,” he begins, as if he’s about to explain something, and then instead strikes the first lash, a blow just where Elias’s pretty thighs meet his arse.</p><p>Elias’s gasp of surprise is thoroughly rewarding, as is watching him press himself against the desk to brace himself.</p><p>“You were saying?” Peter asks with mock concern, and lays on the second and third blows before Elias can answer.<br/><br/>Elias bites his lip and doesn’t rise to the taunt, though he can’t stop himself arching against the desk from the sting. His only responses are his slight grunts through clenched teeth following the sounds of the cane striking flesh.<br/><br/>The Beholder’s arms buckle after the fifth strike. Peter tuts and waits for Elias to get back into form. </p><p>Welts are already rising across his arse, crimson and lovely.</p><p>Peter pauses to run a finger along the pale edge of one of the stripes, a firm hand on Elias’s back to keep him from bucking away at the touch, though he tries.<br/><br/>Peter presses him against the desk, and slowly repeats the gesture, tracing along the heated skin while Elias pants, but relents enough to learn over Elias to wipe away a tear that’s rolled down to the Beholder’s chin.</p><p>Elias isn’t quite supporting himself again after the final lash. He’s breathing heavily against the desk, his eyes closed, face pressed into the wood.</p><p>Peter lays the cane down with care, exchanging it for a towel that’s been sitting in a bowl of ice water. Ideally he’d lay it over Elias’s bruising skin, but the Beholder abruptly rises and coaxes him to sit in his own office chair so that Elias can drape himself over Peter's lap. </p><p>He thinks at first it’s a ploy of Elias’s to get his trousers wet and cold, a petty vengeance, but Elias presses himself into his chest, burying his face against Peter’s neck.<br/><br/>Elias won’t stop moving over Peter’s lap, as if he’s expended all his ability to hold still during the caning. He hisses at even the slightest brush of wet fabric against his welts, but can’t stop himself pressing backwards against the soothing cold. Peter wraps his arms tighter around the Beholder for the pleasure of feeling him slowly shift back and forth between both sensations.<br/><br/>“You took those well enough,” he offers off-handedly, trying to maneuver Elias forwards in his lap so that he can get more benefit from the iced towel.</p><p>Elias huffs a laugh that’s somewhere between shaky and smug. “Of course.” </p><p>Peter catches him by the chin to force the other man to look him in the eye. Being made to hold someone’s gaze is a move he knows Elias finds particularly attractive, whichever end of it he’s on.</p><p>“Did you enjoy yourself?” Peter asks, slowly admiring the flush of Elias’s face with his fingertips.</p><p>Elias shivers, pupils huge. “Of course,” he echoes, clutching at glibness, but then laughs with surprising warmth. “Well, aren’t you being lovely?” Elias smiles up at him, darting in for a kiss that’s mostly nip. “Whatever’s the occasion?”</p><p>Peter rests his head on Elias’s and holds him, slowly rocking him. Peter does not say, “I missed you.”<br/><br/>As with most things, Elias already knows.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>little bittersweet....</p><p>Thank you all users and guests who leave kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it quite a lot</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Aftercare #2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a little aftermath from yesterday that really got away from me</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Peter stretches out on the small cot he keeps in the corner of his captain’s cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed barely holds one, and certainly isn’t ideal for a man of Peter’s size, but it's not as if he spends much time sleeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, he has better places to go when he wants to be truly alone.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter fishes a lemon drop from his pocket and works it around the side of his cheek, slowly letting his mouth fill with tart sweetness. </span>
  <span>The only sounds are his breathing, the muted waves, and, ever so quietly, the sounds of sand running down to fill the lower bulb of an hourglass. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
Elias had given it to him as a present about a year ago. Something of a compromise, to help Peter keep his mind in the present when he needs to leave after a moment of closeness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter absently sucks on his lemon drop and watches the grains of sand run down, pooling over each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sand runs out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds a second lemon drop, unwraps it, and flips the hourglass on the small utilitarian table next to his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias is waiting for his return. The Beholder had booked a room in a hotel near the dock. It’s an expensive little place, a sign of Elias’s casually irritating extravagance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them are the other’s kept man, despite what they like to play at, sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter had been away for a little over half a year, and Elias had welcomed him home to port with open arms and open….well. He’d been enthusiastic.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Peter’s still got the marks of said enthusiasm from Elias’s mouth on his neck and chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sand runs out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter flips the hour glass again, and considers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might not go back. Elias knows that, and will pretend to be satisfied with what he’s already gotten. A pretty set of stripes, a bit of a cuddle. The chance to pretend to be vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a world of difference between Knowing and understanding, but Elias does actually understand Peter’s need for distance, or risk driving him off forever. That’s partly why he’d gifted Peter with the hourglass, rather than imposing the presence of the Eye as a far-seeing timer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d given him a handful of sweets too, this time. </span>
  <span>It’s not really necessary, but Peter realizes as this point that he’s already had several.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sand runs out.<br/>
<br/>
Peter flips it to begin one last time. </span>
  <span>If the avatar of the Lonely doesn’t go back after this turn of the hourglass, Elias will leave the hotel and return to his house by the Institute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter feels more himself now, settled and calm. It would still be lovely to linger in his quiet cabin, listening to the ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Peter can feel the siren song of Elias’s loneliness, sweeter than any candies, and infinitely more pleasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps into the Lonely while the hourglass has a mere handful of sand remaining in the upper half.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He emerges back in the hotel room to see that Elias has showered. The Beholder is lying in bed, reading comfortably. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>His small case is still packed and by the door. Peter’s pleased to see Elias hadn’t been entirely sure about his return this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias acknowledges him with a brief nod and continues reading while Peter undresses and slips into the bed next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them speak, but Elias greets him with a quick kiss that tastes of lemon drops. Apparently he’s had a candy himself while waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter runs a quick hand down Elias’s side, gently exploring. The Beholder hums in contentment as Peter’s fingers soothe out any last lingering sting from the mostly faded welts. </span>
  <span>That’s a quick heal even for Elias, and Peter decides he definitely doesn’t want to see whatever ghoulish recounting the man is reading.<br/>
</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span>Instead he snakes his arm around the other avatar and settles into his side, eyes closing as Elias absently runs a hand through his hair.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The best part about coming back is that it allows him to leave all over again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this was supposed to be a scant 200 words...what happened....<br/>oh well here it is</p><p>the mystery of why elias healed but peter didn't yet...stuff like lovebites heal differently if you're of the Lonely, is all I have to say about it. for now, anyway. maybe in a future chapter?</p><p>thank you everybody who leaves kudos and comments, you are all really wonderful and I appreciate it a lot</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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